


His Heart

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Manga Spoilers, Miya twin dynamics, timeskip fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23664937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: “Osamu, you’ve broken his heart.”Gasping, denial and outrage stuck in his throat. “His heart!”“His dream has gone,” Kita continued, on a relentless simmer. “The one he’d constructed when you were younger, that both of you built with nuts and bolts into your lives. The Miya twins. Brothers with a bond so tight the opposition could only watch and weep. Atsumu dreamt—you both dreamt—of turning pro and building that reality. But now you’ve taken a bulldozer to that dream.”
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke & Miya Osamu
Comments: 23
Kudos: 119





	His Heart

He could see the figure from across the pitch, shoulders straight, eyes scanning the field, and although he couldn’t make out _exactly_ who it was, Osamu knew.

He just knew.

In case it was a coincidence, he huddled himself further into the dugout and slunk down into his hoodie, hoping the figure would pass on by, not realising who it was.

But he wouldn’t.

Kita-san was the most single-minded person Osamu knew (and that included his brother) so if he _was_ looking for him, then he’d pursue with relentless precision until he unearthed him.

And with exactly that relentless precision, Kita was now picking his way through the clumpy mud field and towards the dugout.

Osamu scowled and pulled his jacket zip right up to his chin.

Not that Kita was remotely put off. Making his way over, he took a seat at the other end of the bench and stared across the pitch.

“Gin told ya, right?” Osamu mumbled when the silence had reached an unbearable pitch (approximately ten seconds, but then he’d always had more patience than ‘Tsumu).

“No.”

“And yer about t’ drag me back.”

“I’m not about to drag you anywhere, Osamu-kun,” Kita replied, his voice soft.

“I ain’t apologisin’!”

“Interestingly defensive,” Kita murmured and edged closer along the bench. “I have no actual knowledge, but… another fight with Atsumu, yes?”

Osamu grunted. “Who told ya, then?”

“No one told me anything,” Kita replied. “But I saw Atsumu leaving without you—without anyone—and as his face was as thunderously dark as it is when someone interrupts his serve, I realised something had upset his equilibrium.”

“An’ you decided that had to be me.” He chewed his thumb, working at a hangnail with his teeth. 

“It often is,” Kita replied, not sugaring the pill in the slightest. “If it’s a school problem, then he goes for a run. A volleyball problem, then he works it out in the gym. Atsumu storming _away_ from the gym suggests something else.”

Osamu shrugged. “We had a row. S’nothin’. He’ll get over it.”

“I’m sure he will, but what about you?”

“Huh?”

“There’s something inside of you, has been for a while, like molten lava swirling, and you’ve been keeping a lid on it, letting out the odd smoke signal to vent the heat, but it’s still not gone, has it?” He pressed his lips together and then sighed. “I take it the eruption has occurred.”

“We’re always fightin’,” Osamu muttered in protest. He pressed his thumb watching as a tiny pinprick of blood leeched onto his skin. “Means nothin’.”

“True. But Atsumu doesn’t usually have a teammate running after him.”

“What?”

“Ginjima. I saw them heading out of the gates together.”

Groaning, Osamu held his face in his hands. “And now ‘Toshi hates me, too.”

“Would it matter?”

Stung, he stopped his slump and glared at his captain. “’Course it would matter! He’s a teammate! A friend!”

“Enough to change your mind on whatever it is you’ve fought about?” Kita asked, waving his fingers in the air.

“No. But they shouldn’t be mad,” Osamu protested. “It ain’t like I’m quittin’ the team or nuthin’.”

“Ah, that’s good, then.” Something that sounded like a chuckle, but could as equally have been a clearing of the throat emanated from Kita. “You told him, didn’t you?”

“Told him what?” Osamu mumbled, but he knew Kita-san _knew_. There was his perceptive gaze for one thing, and the fact that Kita didn’t waste words unless he was sure.

Kita stared at him, and it was as if time slowed to quarter pace, and like rice absorbing water, Osamu waited for the words.

“I was on the administrative desk for careers guidance a week last Wednesday.”

Swallowing, Osamu slouched again. The wall of the dugout rubbed uncomfortably into his back but he didn’t sit back up. “You was checkin’ us all in. Musta seen ‘Tsumu as well.”

“Yes.”

“So?”

“Soooo … Atsumu-kun laughed, fooled around a little with Ginjima, walked straight in, spoke loudly to the sensei for approximately one minute—I’m not sure he even put his kitbag down—then dashed out, grinned and headed for the gym.” He paused, then turned his headlamp gaze onto Osamu again. “You took the whole time allotted to you, and a little bit more.”

“Explorin’ options. Ain’t that the point?” he snapped.

“Of course. But someone who already knows _exactly_ what they’re going to do, doesn’t need to explore options.” After a pause, he continued, and his words slipped through the air like an egg into a hot pan, slowly becoming opaque. “And now you’ve told Atsumu.”

Feeling miserable, he nodded. “I don’t want to play pro. He took it badly.”

“And from his face and yours now, I’m guessing it was blunt. That you didn’t sit him down and break the news gently?”

“Hey, I tried before, but he wouldn’t listen. He never fuckin’ listens unless it’s yelled at him so fuckin’ hard he can’t NOT hear me!”

“So this time you yelled at him ‘fuckin’ hard’?”

“Mighta done.” Scuffing his shoe on the ground, he leant forwards elbows on his knees and sighed. “He hates me.”

“Can you blame him?” came the whiplash. “Osamu, you’ve broken his heart.”

Gasping, denial, defence, and outrage stuck in his throat. “His heart!”

“His dream has gone,” Kita continued, on a relentless simmer. “The one he’d constructed when you were younger, that both of you built with nuts and bolts into your lives. The Miya twins. Brothers with a bond so tight the opposition could only watch and weep. Atsumu dreamt—you both dreamt—of turning pro and building that reality. But now you’ve taken a bulldozer to that dream.”

Stung to anger, he leapt up and out of the dugout, hoisting his bag over his shoulder, forgetting it was open so his books spilled onto the grass.

“And you’re so perfect you’ve kept every promise you made when you were younger?” he demanded.

“Of course not,” Kita replied, not the least put out by the show of temper. Hell, he wasn’t even twitching, just methodically untwisting the top of his water bottle to take a sip. “I was hit with a large dose of reality when I was nine, or else I’d still be pursuing my childhood dream to build and live on a travelling rollercoaster.”

“Huh?”

Stepping onto the pitch, Kita picked up three pens and a ruler, handing them back to Osamu. “Clean them first,” he ordered, handing over a wet wipe from his bag.

“Rollercoaster?”

“Mmm, a large rollercoaster on wheels, which could be towed all over the world. I drew pictures and constructed them out of matchsticks.” He smiled a little, at least the corners of his mouth twitched upwards briefly. “But utterly unrealistic as childhood dreams often are.”

Present day dropped back into the frame. “Not for ‘Tsumu,” Osamu sighed.

“No, not for Tsumu. But for you, yes. At least …” Pausing he handed over a pencil sharpener. “It’s not _unrealistic_ for you to turn pro with your brother, but it is now undesirable. If you don’t mind me asking, when did that change, Osamu-kun?”

“Don’t mind.” He shrugged, but it was good to finally talk, and he found himself unfolding under Kita’s curiosity. “I don’t know, really. Jus’ gradual I guess. Watching how ‘Tsumu burned for volleyball, how hard he tried and I… like, I wasn’t sure at first I could keep up, then I didn’t know if I wanted to, if I actually gave a fuck. An’ I tried to tell him nicely, but…” He screwed up his face, trying to think of how better to explain. “You know when you’re a kid an’ you graze your knee an’ you get a big plaster on it, but when it gets better you gotta take the plaster off an’—” Frowning, he wondered if he were making sense but Kita was watching him and gave a faintly imperceptible nod. “—Mom always used to soak it off bit by bit so it wouldn’t hurt, but it always did, an’ Granny’d give us a lollipop to suck, then rip it off real quick, ‘cuz that’d hurt more but not for as long. You get me?”

“And you’ve been trying to soak off the plaster, hinting to your brother instead of telling him straight.”

“Yeah.” He searched the ground for anything else he might have dropped but seeing nothing zipped the bag up carefully. “He thought it was cuz of Inters, said I was babblin’ nonsense.”

“But it’s not.”

“Nope.”

Of that he was quite sure, but still he asked, “D’you think I’m wrong?”

“I think we have one life,” Kita said sagely. “And that’s precious, so precious that you shouldn’t waste it.”

He blinked. “You think I’m wasting mine?”

“As wonderful as it would be to see the pair of you play professionally, to reach the heights you could surely attain.” His laugh lilted through the air. “And I shouldn’t say this but gods it would be glorious seeing you play on opposing teams, and then for Japan, but … Osamu-kun, it would be more of a waste if you lived Atsumu’s life and not your own.”

“Thanks,” he muttered and hoisted the bag on his shoulder.

Kita started to walk back, waiting for Osamu to join him, asking briskly, “So, what is it you want to do? Do you have an idea?”

“Uh… kind of, but … you’ll think it dull.”

“To do with food?”

He gaped. “How… how d’you know that?”

Tapping his chin, Kita considered. “Hmm, let me see, you have sushi stickers all over your text books. You make analogies to rice most days, are often starving, and your eyes light up at the smell of pork buns.”

“Are you psychic? Like … are you a youkai, or somethin’?” Osamu asked, in awe.

“Maybe.” He gave another tiny smile and his eyes sparkled. “Or maybe after you’d left, Sensei asked me to replenish the food industry and catering college leaflets because you’d taken the last of them.” Laughing he strode ahead, looking back over his shoulder. “So, are we going to see Miya Osamu, world famous chef, twirling knives with finesse and opening the finest restaurant in the whole of Japan, eh? Is that the future you want?”

He must have shuddered, or flinched, or shown some reaction because Kita stopped laughing. “Or perhaps not,” he said softly. “Forgive me, I’m curious.”

“That kinda restaurant ain’t me,” Osamu admitted. “Like I get it would be a dream for some, but … uh … for me it’s about enjoyin’ the food and not worryin’ how t’ eat it. It’s sharin’ an’ taste an’ feelin’ satisfied. Some kinda fancy city place would make me uncomfortable. Does that make givin’ up volleyball worse? D’you think I’m an idiot?”

He shook his head. “I think as long as you’re doing what’s right for you, then that’s not idiotic or bad.”

“’Cept if you think I’ve broken ‘Tsumu’s heart, then everyone’ll think the same.”

“Oh… that.” He took a breath, and stared ahead. “Hearts mend. Atsumu’s will break a thousand times more before he’s finally at peace. I suspect yours will too. It’s what makes us human.”

And right them he wanted to ask Kita-san if he’d had his heart broken, and by what, or maybe whom, but it would be presumptuous now, even if this conversation had chipped a little at Kita-san’s marble façade.

Instead Osamu kicked a clump of grass, watching as it soared into the air. “You know, you could still live on a rollercoaster, or maybe travel to ‘em and ride all the rollercoasters in the world. It ain’t _that_ unrealistic, Kita-san.”

“It is undesirable, though,” Kita replied and he shivered. “I’m trusting you to keep this to yourself, at least please do not tell Suna-kun who will no doubt inveigle me into a photo opportunity, but … I don’t like rollercoasters in the slightest.” He clutched his stomach, mock dramatically. “All those swooping ups and downs.”

“Really?”

“Why do you think I’ve always suggested something other than the funfair for Inarizaki team days? Well, that and I can’t trust the pair of you with guns at the shooting range.”

Feeling lighter, Osamu chuckled. “Hey, how d’you know where I was?”

“You won’t like the answer,” Kita warned, and let a small whistle escape from his lips. “Your brother comes here when he’s annoyed or angry, I wondered if you’d do the same.”

“Ugh!” He stamped on a mud clod.

“But you knew that, didn’t you?” Kita stated. “At least subconsciously because I’m guessing you came here to cool off and to wait for him.”

Had he? He frowned wondering at the truth of his decision to come here rather than run straight home as he usually did.

“But instead…” Kita murmured, casting him a sideglance, “Atsumu has gone _straight_ home…”

“To find me?”

“Who knows? It’s not that unlikely, is it?”

“Cuz he’s my twin?”

“You might not like that bond right now,” Kita replied. “And I know there are times you actively hate it, but it’s still there and as strong as a steel chain so you won’t be able to unlink that easily.”

“So what do I do?”

“Tell him about _your_ dream, ‘Samu.”

“You think he’ll listen?”

“Tell him what you told me. And this time give him a lollipop!” Kita prodded his bag into Osamu’s back. “Go home, Osamu. Go and mend his heart. And your own.”

And for the first time since the careers meeting, since he’d faced up to the fact that he had to tell Atsumu straight, Osamu felt his face crease into a smile rather than a frown.

“Thanks. I will.”

“And not a word about rollercoasters!”

Osamu’s laugh flew from his chest. Jogging backwards, he faced his senpai. “I reckon you get all the ups and downs you need bein’ our Captain, Kita-san, and I ain’t about to add to that.”

“I reckon you could be right, Osamu-kun. Now, shoo! Go home and make up with your brother. As you’ve assured me you’re not leaving the team, we have Spring High preliminaries next week, and I need you both on top form!”

“Ah, we’ll be right. I’ll give him my puddin’ for a week.”

Kita’s laugh followed him as he ran. “I am in awe of your sacrifice!”

 _Well,_ he thought, as he sped up, _maybe jus’ tonight’s puddin’._


End file.
